SCENE II.[1118

KNOWELL, STEPHEN. [_Enter a_] Servant.

_Serv._ Save you, gentlemen!

_Step._ Nay, we do not stand much on our gentility, friend; yet you are welcome: and I assure you mine uncle here is a man of a thousand a year, Middlesex land. He has but one son in (5) all the world, I am his next heir, at the common law, master Stephen, as simple as I stand here, if my cousin die, as there’s hope he will. I have a pretty living o’ mine own too, beside, hard by here. 10

_Serv._ In good time, sir.

_Step._ In good time, sir! Why, and in very good time, sir! You do not flout, friend, do you?

_Serv._ Not I, sir.

_Step._ Not you, sir! you were not best, sir; (15) an you should, here be them can perceive it, and that quickly too; go to: and they can give it again soundly too, an need be.

_Serv._ Why, sit, let this satisfy you; good faith, I had no such intent. 20

_Step._ Sir, an I thought you had, I would talk with you, and that presently.[1119]

_Serv._ Good master Stephen, so you may, sir, at your pleasure.

_Step._ And so I would, sir, good my saucy (25) companion! An you were out o’ mine uncle’s ground, I can tell you; though I do not stand upon my gentility neither, in ’t.

_Know._ Cousin, cousin, will this ne’er be left?

_Step._ Whoreson, base fellow! a mechanical (30) serving-man! By this cudgel, an ’twere not for shame, I would——

_Know._ What would you do, you peremptory gull?[1120] If you cannot be quiet, get you hence. You see the honest man demeans himself 35 Modestly tow’rds you, giving no reply To your unseason’d, quarrelling, rude fashion; And still you huff[1121] it, with a kind of carriage As void of wit, as of humanity. Go, get you in; ’fore heaven, I am asham’d 40 Thou hast a kinsman’s interest in me. [_Exit_ MASTER STEPHEN.]

_Serv._ I pray, sir, is this master Knowell’s house?

_Know._ Yes, marry is it, sir. 44

_Serv._ I should inquire for a gentleman here, one master Edward Knowell; do you know any such, sir, I pray you?

_Know._ I should forget myself else, sir.

_Serv._ Are you the gentleman? Cry you mercy, sir: I was requir’d by a gentleman i’ the (50) city, as I rode out at this end o’ the town, to deliver you this letter, sir.

_Know._ To me, sir! What do you mean? pray you remember your court’sy.[1122] [_Reads._] _To his most selected friend, master Edward Knowell._ (55) What might the gentleman’s name be, sir, that sent it? Nay, pray you be cover’d.

_Serv._ One master Wellbred, sir.

_Know._ Master Wellbred! a young gentleman, is he not? 60

_Serv._ The same, sir; master Kitely married his sister; the rich merchant i’ the Old Jewry.

_Know._ You say very true.—Brainworm!

[_Enter_ BRAINWORM.]

_Brai._ Sir. 64

_Know._ Make this honest friend drink here: pray you, go in. [_Exeunt_ BRAINWORM _and_ Servant.] This letter is directed to my son; Yet I am Edward Knowell too, and may, With the safe conscience of good manners, use The fellow’s error to my satisfaction. 70 Well, I will break it ope (old men are curious), Be it but for the style’s sake and the phrase, To see if both do answer my son’s praises, Who is almost grown the idolater Of this young Wellbred. What have we here? What’s this? 75

[_Reads._] Why, Ned, I beseech thee, hast thou forsworn all thy friends i’ the Old Jewry? or dost thou think us all Jews that inhabit there? Yet, if thou dost, come over, and but see our 79 frippery;[1123] change an old shirt for a whole smock with us: do not conceive that antipathy between us and Hogsden, as was between Jews and hogs-flesh. Leave thy vigilant father alone, to number over his green apricots, evening and (84) morning, o’ the north-west wall. An I had been his son, I had sav’d him the labour long since, if taking in all the young wenches that pass by at the back-door, and coddling[1124] every kernel of the fruit for ’em, would ha’ serv’d. But (89) prithee, come over to me quickly this morning; I have such a present for thee!—our Turkey company never sent the like to the Grand Signior. One is a rhymer, sir, o’ your own batch, your own leaven; but doth think himself poet-major o’ the town, willing to be shown, and (95) worthy to be seen. The other—I will not venture his description with you, till you come, because I would ha’ you make hither with an appetite. If the worst of ’em be not worth your journey, draw your bill fit of charges, as unconscionable (100) as any Guildhall verdict will give it you, and you shall be allow’d your viaticum.[1125]

_From the Windmill._[1126] From the Bordello it might come as well, The Spittle, or Pict-hatch.[1127] Is this the man My son hath sung so, for the happiest wit, 105 The choicest brain, the times have sent us forth! I know not what he may be in the arts, Nor what in schools; but, surely, for his manners, I judge him a profane and dissolute wretch; Worse by possession of such great good gifts, 110 Being the master of so loose a spirit. Why, what unhallow’d ruffian would have writ In such a scurrilous manner to a friend! Why should he think I tell[1128] my apricots, Or play the Hesperian dragon with my fruit, 115 To watch it? Well, my son, I’d thought You’d had more judgment t’ have made election Of your companions, than t’ have ta’en on trust Such petulant, jeering gamesters, that can spare No argument or subject from their jest. 120 But I perceive affection makes a fool Of any man too much the father.—Brainworm!

[_Enter_ BRAINWORM.]

_Brai._ Sir.

_Know._ Is the fellow gone that brought this letter?

_Brai._ Yes, sir, a pretty while since.

_Know._ And where’s your young master? 125

_Brai._ In his chamber, sir.

_Know._ He spake not with the fellow, did he?

_Brai._ No, sir, he saw him not.

_Know._ Take you this letter, and deliver it my son; but with no notice that I have open’d it, on your life. 131

_Brai._ O Lord, sir! that were a jest indeed. [_Exit._]

_Know._ I am resolv’d I will not stop his journey, Nor practise any violent means to stay The unbridled course of youth in him; for that 135 Restrain’d grows more impatient; and in kind Like to the eager, but the generous[1129] greyhound, Who ne’er so little from his game withheld, Turns head, and leaps up at his holder’s throat. There is a way of winning more by love 140 And urging of the modesty, than fear: Force works on servile natures, not the free. He that’s compell’d to goodness, may be good, But ’tis but for that fit; where others, drawn By softness and example, get a habit. 145 Then, if they stray, but warn ’em, and the same They should for virtue ’ve done, they’ll do for shame. [_Exit._]